


Hatim's silence

by KeithKoenar



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Character Death, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mystery, Non-Canon Relationship, Romance, Sexuality, Slash, Violence, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1845271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeithKoenar/pseuds/KeithKoenar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As soon as their eyes met again for the first time since the boy's return, Altair had seen the change in them. It was the kind of change that kept everybody else at bay, sharp, sudden, deadly.</p>
<p>Yet these deep charcoal eyes did nothing but draw Altair closer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The new old

**Author's Note:**

> Since I never get anything done, I have decided to approach writing with the help of drabbles. So every chapter will contain a few of these drabbles, which are not in chronological order. This is a writing exercise I very much enjoy and I sincerely hope you can enjoy reading my work! As always, constructive criticism, reviews and kudos are greatly appreciated.

**1\. The new old**

Rumors spread that Rauf had come back with one of Altair's classmates. He had been clutching onto the older Assassin's robes when they passed the gates of Maysaf and had refused to let go, screaming franticaly and kicking out in vain when others pulled him off, until he was knocked out and carried inside. From the top of the fortress, Altair had watched it all.

He should have been executed for treachery, but nothing of that sort happened. Instead, only days later, the novice stood infront of the dorms doors. He was to be one of Altair's roommates, like he had been before. The bed that had found a new occupant in the time of two months was emptied without questions for it's former owner.

No one dared to ask about the bloody and torn robes the boy had worn at his return.

It did not escape Altair when Hatim first stood in the back of the training ring again, keeping to himself in silence. Others seemed to take a bit longer to notice. Which was not really a surprise, consindering Hatim was strangely mute and calm, not even speaking to Abbas, who could be considered his friend beforehand, about what had happened on his adventure. He only stood hidden among their brothers, face solemn and watching.

It was strange. Altair had recalled him different, even remembered getting into a quarry with the boy, which had ended up with Hatim's face smothered into the stones, spitting insults at Altair he had not even known of before.

"You think you are so strong?!", the boy had yelled, struggling to free himself from Altair's grip, "Swallow your pride, you dullard, and make sure you don't get poisoned in your sleep like the incompetent, insufferable, impotent bastard you are!" His face scrunched when Altair pushed him down harder. "Dakhlah killah, kehbel!* May you be struck by a shoe!"

After a while, the insults had given in to furious screams as Hatim had struggled and battled fiercer than before, an animal in a steel grip. When the older novices had seperated them, Altair had seen how Hatim's face was scratched up and bloodied on one side from being pushed into the stones with too great force. To some, Hatim then looked fearsome, the dirty blood running down into his crazy eyes and down his neck to stain his uniform, flying in pink droplets with every breath he pushed out of his lungs. Altair had not feared him in any way, not when you could see the rage and the emotions clouding his good judgement. It was no sign of a good Assassin.

But now, when Hatim attended his classes, Altair felt a shiver run down his spine. There was nothing left of the animal he had pushed into the dirt besides of the light scars he still wore. When he looked into the boy's eyes now, which turned to him when he noticed himself being watched, they were cold.

The eyes of a cold-blooded killer.

 

_*Push it all in, bitch!_


	2. Love, light and darkness

**2\. Love**

"Do you love your duty, Hatim?"

The man's eyes turned to Altair, silent and cold as ever. When he looked away and flashed his blade in the light like a treasure made of gold he would take to the grave, Altair knew the answer.

  
 **3\. Light**

The dungeons were dark and moist, and Hatim was seated in the cell opposite to Altair. The bars and the corridorr between them made it impossible to reach out and touch, talking was naturally out of the question. All they had left was the silence of their contemplation on their sins and the ray of light that wandered above Altair's head.

When, around midday, it finally hit his face, Altair leaned back and bathed in the warmth, Hatim watching him from afar. The tears sparkled in the sun. The smile shone with ebony white theeth.

All the trouble was worth it.

  
 **4\. Dark**

The guards were too chatty in his opinion, but Altair sometimes couldn't help but listen. He told himself it was because one should be aware of what occurred around the fortress, even though he was really just curious. Over and over again, guards would report of a creature haunting Maysaf and it's fortress. Some said it was the ghost of fallen Assassin's, others insisted it was a demon risen from hell itself. They spread the word that it came at night, emerging from nebulous darkness. It would peel itself away from the dubious shadows and flit away before they even had the opportunity to attack.

A demon, Altair thought, amused by the idea. He knew it was something else, maybe a tale the guards told eachother to keep entertained, maybe an intruder that should be disposed of. A spy perhaps. Either way, Altair now climbed the fortress at night, adapting to keep hidden in obscure corners and shadows, in search of that thing. It became more of a game than anything else.

One chilly autumn night, Altair dropped into the court, seeking a way back into his cozy bed and not on his search anymore. Somehow, he started to believe the guards in Maysaf were just really bored.

The sound of a blade scraping the ground made him whip around.

He had been ready for anything but an eery shadow standing against the wall between the obscure trees. Altair drew his own sword in defense, standing still he readied himself. And the shadow hovered forward into the moonlight, revealing Hatim with a pitch black coat wrapped over his novice robes. A small wind wafted through the torn and ragged ends of the cloth, making them reach out to the only other living thing in the court for a second. It didn't even occur to Altair to be relieved, for he saw Hatim's charcoal eyes piercing him with a bleak look, the same look the boy- almost man- seemingly always wore. With the next whisper of air, the boy whizzed around and sunk back into the obscure, scuttling up, up the wall until he reached the edge and swung into the arcane night, black cloth flickering out of sight.

Altair watched in silent awe, almost cursing himself for not believing the guards words. When it was dark like this, you would think of a demon fleeing into the unknown skies.


	3. Lone fighter

**5\. Seeking Solace**

He had asked the question a few days prior, so he hadn't understood why Hatim was sitting on the edge of his bed now, hands folded in contemplation. Only when he had opened his mouth for the other to see the stump of what once had been his tongue, Altair briefly wondered if the scar was fresher than it should have been. Hatim shut his mouth too soon to be sure. Then he was pressing his hands together again, eyes cast downwards, void of things to say. Now aware of the secret of Hatim's silence, Altair let a morbid thought into his mind.

Some brothers sacrificed their finger for the ordr, Hatim had sacrificed his tongue.

 

**6\. Break Away**

Abbas came running to Altair, stumbling and huffing in exhaustion, clutching at the front of his uniform, pointing towards the gates in panic while he struggled for words. Slightly disturbed, Altair noted how half the novice's face had begun to swell.

"Hatim-", Abbas choked out, "I saw Hatim leave through the front gate and I wanted to- I tried to stop him, but he just hit me! I beg you, Altair, find him before someone else does!"

That was enough for Altair to break into a full run, because if Hatim was leaving and other brothers were there before him- There would be no second mercy. It only took him a few agonizing minutes to reach the front gates of Maysaf, the guards didn't hinder him from rushing through, they knew the young prodigy, and it only took a few more before he spotted the young man's back on the dusty road. The heat rose to his head and the sweat ran down into his eyes, but he was sure that this was Hatim, Hatim with that stupid flapping coat of his, but Hatim.

"Brother!", he shouted out but received no reaction, "Hatim!"

The man on the road slowly turned around, waiting for Altair to stop before him, panting and huffing not unlike Abbas had not too long ago. Hatim only watched with a blank face as Altair regained his composure.

Altair grabbed his shoulders in a firm grip, almost begging, "Please, my brother, come back before anybody notices."

Hatim shoved him away, sending him stumbling to the ground. The dust settled and Altair spotted hard eyes fending him off. A shiver ran down his spine. There was nothing left of the man he had called a friend. This man was cold. These were the eyes of the cold-blooded killer he was challenging. The wind picked up, sending hot sand flying around Hatim's immobile body, the cloth wrapped around his shoulders trashed violently. Involuntarily, Altair thought back to that time when they had met on that clear autumn night, that time where he had discovered what the guards had called a demon. This demon had broken away from the night and the confines of the obscure fortress.

Altair remained down as Hatim turned with the sandy wind and dissapeared into the dust with a flutter of his dark coat, maybe never to be seen again.      


	4. Peace

**7\. Heaven**

"Hatim? _Hatim?_ " A quick exhale of the other made Altair realise he had managed to wake him up. "Do you believe in heaven?"

Hatim's eyes shot open. Altair noticed how the man that lay with him in bed knit his brows and puckered his lips, shooting him a skeptic look. The answering eyes were sincere. Considering the question futile, Hatim litterally shrugged Altair off, stood up and got dressed, quickly, before that man would ask any more senseless things. He was almost out the door when Altair managed to stop him.

"Is _that_ your answer?" Altair huffed.

Instead of turning around, Hatim lift his hand and made a vague motion over his shoulder, before dissappearing into the corridor.

  
**8\. Breathe Again**

He found Hatim on top of the watchtower, the one you took your first leap of faith off, standing on a ledge with crossed arms and looking out on the city bathed in setting sunlight. Silently, he joined the man, balancing on the next wooden plank.

"The city is really pretty tonight," Altair offered, a twinkle in his eyes. Arms still crossed, Hatim remained unmoved. "It's in the evening that you can see her full beauty."

Silence was the only answer he got. Weird, how that didn't stop him from talking to the reclusive man, it never did. Sometimes, he still expected an answer, more than a weary look or a hand sign. Even though it was impossible. Hatim took a deep breath, settling down with the exhale, and after a few second of looking out, closed his eyes to rest. Altair almost laughed at himself when he thought that this was maybe the first time he had seen Hatim like this. He seemed calm, seemed to have shaken off his worries to breathe freely again.

Something he hadn't done in a long time; breathe freely. He looked quite happy with that moment of peace.

 

**9\. Smile**

They were playing chess over who would top today and Altair was loosing. At first he had played it cool and kept on his pokerface, but every piece that moved and got taken away, he grew more and more frustrated. One last move, with all his might Altair hopes Hatim will make a mistake. He looks up and sees the smile on Hatim's face and he knows it. That smile told of gleeful happiness and thriumph, of love and everything else in the world, it was there to tell him that Hatim was there and would stay, it told him to be frustrated and desperate for more, and there was this one thing it was actually meant to say.

Check mate.


	5. Only Human

**10\. Questionning**

"Hey, what is your name?" Kadar asks before either Altair or his brother Malik can stop him.   
  
Hatim only does so much but glance at them, "Hatim," Altair answers for him.   
  
"Hmpf!" Kadar huffes but Altair thinks he has made the right choice answering for the look Hatim sends him is not treathening. "I think our brother can reply on his own." With a flash of his grin the young boy turns to the older novice and asks innocently, "Can't he?"

Hatim remains silent, watching the small face before him- because who could refuse Kadar- and softly shaking his head, bringing a firm finger to his lips to finally silence Kadar. But the boy wouldn't shut up.

"Talk to me, brother! You know your name, do you? Then tell me! What classes were you in today? Do you want to teach me? Are you as good as a fighter as my brother Malik?" the boy rambled on, "Are you good with the sword? Or better with the throwing knife? Or is Altair supposed to talk for you?"

Altair unvoluntarily flinched at the last, because  _ he wasn't supposed to talk instead of Hatim,  _ it was an unrespectful thing to do and he wondered to himself, studying Hatim's calm face, how this man bore with him and the rest of the Brotherhood treating him like an invalid. It was incredible how Kadar rambled on, but he was nothing more but an annoying background noise now as Altair stared at Hatim, hidden in the confines of the shadow of his hood. Hatim's dark, and dark in every sense, eyes turned on him, and he was the one to stare without shame. For a second, Altair questionned the look in them.

Because it seemed there had been a flash of desire just before Hatim backhanded Kadar to shut him up.

  
  


**11\. Reality**

Altair had never really thought about it until the Kadar, sitting at table with him, began babbling about the topic.

"When I'm older, I want six children with my beautiful wife!" Kadar took another bite of his bread and munched happily. "You will see, with the most beautiful woman in all Maysaf, all Syria even!"   
  
"You seem excited, brother," one of the older men sitting at the table mocked, "Have you been spying on the girls at the well again, Kadar?"   
  
A few laughed, Kadar pouted. "If you would see for yourself, you'd understand! One of them has the most greenest eyes, I swear!"   
  
"The day one of these young ladies will talk to you, you can talk of marriage and children!"   
  
Again, laughter erupted on the expense of Kadar, and the young boy hunched over trying to hide his furious blush. "Hmpf." He nudged Altair with his elbow. "One day, I swear," he hushed over his lips, "They will be jealous of my wife and six handsome kids, and the huge house I'll be sharing with my wonderful family. I'll be respected in all of Maysaf, I'll be rich enough to live easy and my sons will be the best Assassins that ever walked the earth!" Altair shot him a dubious look, cocking an eyebrow. "Except for you, of course," Kadar added quickly.   
  
"You've got quite a plan there, brother," Malik said, having heard everything Kadar had whispered to Altair. He was seated next to him after all. "I myself would fancy a humble wife that can cook and read, and bear me one or two children. At least one boy, inshallah, so I can teach him the ways of the Brotherhood." He turned towards Altair. "What about you, novice?"

Altair was taken aback by the question, usually, Malik did not address him if it wasn't to tease or insult him. What about  _ him _ ? Well, he would have loved to retire into a small house a day's march from the next village or city, just enough so that he would have his peace from beggars and prying eyes. So that he could live with Hatim without being disturbed or treathened or killed. If he had children or not, he didn't care. Probably not, children were a burden in his eyes, they talked too much. It would just be him, Hatim, and the silence of the surrounding landscape.

But in reality, he would never get away from the cities. In reality, he would never live with Hatim-  _ how naive was that thought? _ \- and he would probably never get old enough to even retire. In reality, Al-Mualim will offer him a home in Maysaf and a perfect wife to carry on his legacy, he will get his children sent to the order, and he will die in battle. That was how things went most of the time.

He wanted something entirely else though, something that couldn't happen. This was the wrong place, the wrong time for him and Hatim, and  _ what about him? _ He would have loved to tell the truth, but he could never. He knew Malik awaited an answer.

So he shrugged, "Haven't really thought about it."

 

**13\. Tears**

Altair and Hatim were alone for now, having found a spot at the back entrance of the fortress, underneath a tree. Altair threw the other novice one of the apples he had nicked from the kitchen and sat down, taking a bite from his own. He peeked to his side when he noticed Hatim wasn't eating, instead staring at the round apple in his hand.

"What the matter?" he asked, "Don't you like apples?"

With a look of despair draped over his face, Hatim stood up and walked to the edge of the cliff, simply hurling the fruit away with a frustrated yell. 

"Hatim are you mad!" Altair shouted, slightly hurt that his gift was treated in such ways, "Do you know how long it took me to get that apple?"

The boy at the cliff turned around, fists clenched and tears streaking down his face. It was shocking to see Hatim, out of all people, like this, fragile and hurt, and Altair couldn't help but stare. Only when he let himself fall back, Altair realized what he was about to do and sprinted forward, catching his collar just in time. He caught his breath, looking Hatim right in the teary eyes, holding him steady.

"What were you thinking? If I hadn't been there-" Altair couldn't even finish the sentence, instead he opted for an aggravated snort, "Look, Hatim, I _ know  _ you are angry and hurt, and the worst is you can't talk to anybody about it, but it can't end like this! You're  _ better _ than this, you a _ re  _ one of the best! What you are not is a total coward that jumps off a cliff, and it doesn't matter if it's the easy way. It's wrong. And I won't allow it."

A choked sob escaped Hatim and a hand rose to clamp it's fingers around Altair's wrist, he was almost afraid it was there to push him off. But the boy pulled himself up and back on steady feet, immediatly hunching forward into Altair's chest, balling his fist in the front of his clothes as he sobbed without restraint. Altair let him.

Ever since that day, he had never seen Hatim cry again. Not when the master betrayed them, not when he carried his dead brothers from the battlefield, not when the place he had called home burnt down to ashes. Not one tear.

  
  


**14\. Mirror**

A tired, hollow reflection stared back at him. Hatim opened his mouth, wiggling with what was left of his tongue, then closed it again. He turned around and searched for the wound on his bare back, seeing if he could touch it. He glowered down at the bleeding cut. Damn guards finally got him. 

Let's see into what heroic tales these gossiping women would turn the event.

  
  


 

  
  


 


	6. Time Will Tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to post longer chapters from now on, this is the last short one. Comments, Kudos and any feedback is welcome, thanks for reading my story!

**15\. Hours**

Hatim had the bad habit to dissapear without warning, which left Altair two choices. Either patiently wait for his return or be enough of a fool to go search the man.

It always took hours to find him, but Altair managed every time.

  
  


**16\. Days.**

On some days, Altair wasn't sure if Hatim truly loved him. On some days, the man seemed to toss him aside or just leave him with no good reason, just for the sake of putting some distance between them. On some days, it all would go to shit.

On other days, Hatim loved him like there was no tomorrow.

  
  


**17\. Weeks.**

The weeks passed slowly when Hatim was gone out on missions in other cities far away. Now, Altair had no choice but to wait for his lovers return, hoping that he himself would be present when he arrived. He would then occupy himself training on his own, people keeping their distance without really noticing, it seemed a natural thing to do. And Altair impatiently waited for Hatim's return.

First they would fight in the training ring and then in bed. That thought kept him occupied for weeks.

  
  


**18\. Months.**

One week. Two weeks. Three weeks. A month. Two months. That was how long it took Altair to ask someone about where Hatim had gone to.

"Oh don't you know? Our brother Hatim has found a wife and settled down in Maysaf! She's already in her first month of pregnancy," the informant had cheered, and it had made Altair want to rip his troath out.

Every month that passed devastated him more and more. The seventh, he dared to go into the city and search for Hatim, finding his home by asking some merchants. When he entered without knocking, he was greeted by the sight of Hatim sitting in the darkest corner of the room, a bed set up with flowers on the opposite side. Altair walked over to the bed, seeing the woman's body underneath the thin blanket and knowing by instinct that it was dead.

"Safety and peace," he muttered to the corpse before leaving , not looking back at anything or anyone inside, dead or alive.

  
  


**20\. Years.**

Altair was working at his desk, a candle lit to give him light, and he was trying hard to make the words readable on the paper, concentration written all over his face. There was a giggle underneath the table. He heard small shuffling sounds and a childish giggle again, and he peeked under his chair, pulling out a squirming and laughing boy. Held at arms length, the child was visibly enjoying himself, ignoring Altair's scowl.

"What the Hell are you doing here again?" Altair muttered none too friendly, "Hatim! Hatim  _ he's  _ here again!"

Hatim came through the door and took the boy away from Altair, much to the kid's delight who squealed and laughed as if he was being tickled, hitting the Assassin on the back of his head.

" _ Ow! _ " Altair rubbed the sore spot. "I know he has a name but I can't be bothered to say it every  _ fucking  _ time!" Hatim hit him again. " _ Ow! What the fuck _ -" Hatim shot him an angry look. "Alright, alright, no swearing, I get it. I get it."

It took Altair years to get used to the little bugger Hatim's wife had born at her death and sometimes he doubted the man's decision to keep the boy. It took so long to name him, even longer for Altair to say it. It was just that every time he looked at Rasheed, he was reminded of that time Hatim had left him for a woman. He had not quite forgiven the man yet.

Hatim was babying the three year old boy, who giggled and tugged at his father's beard, shouting 'Baba! Baba!' over and over again. Altair studied Rasheed's small and round face.

"You know, sometimes I wonder if he's even your son. He doesn't look like you at all."

Hatim's eyes wandered from his son to Altair and he made no sign whatsoever to mock or dismiss the thought, instead he turned to bring the boy to bed. Altair was left puzzled and confused to what that was intended to meant, but he shook it off and went on with work.

It took him another few years to notice that Rasheed's eyes were oddly familiar to Al-Mualim's. 

 


	7. Complicated Love

**21\. Family**

"It's not normal, is it?"

Altair's spoon clanked into his half-empty bowl.

"You and Baba, it can't be-" Rasheed clenched his fists on the tabletop and pressed his lips together. "We're not a proper family, are we?"

Altair pushed his bowl aside and crossed his fingers, sighing. "I knew this day would come," he said, his voice softer than usual, "I just hoped your father would be there."

"My  _ father _ would be of no help," Rasheed spat. Altair looked up and met the teen's hard eyes. 

"He would to me." There was a heavy silence when Altair pondered of what to say next. Yes, he had known this day would come and he had prepared to speak for him and Hatim. He just needed to gather the words. "I... I love your father, Rasheed. He is the man that will always be by my side, no matter what. And if that means taking care of you, feed you and be like a  _ second _ father to you, I will do that. Because if your father would be to choose..." Altair paused, preparing himself for the next words. "He wouldn't pick either of us."

Rasheed poked his food with his spoon. "Is that what it means to be family?"

Altair nodded. "That's what it means to be family."

"I love Baba too," the boy said calmly without looking up, and at the sight Altair forgot all the past years he had struggled with Rasheed. All those things that kept him worried at night. All the people that thought this wrong.

Maybe Rasheed was more like his father than he thought.

  
  


**22\. Friends.**

Rasheed shot Altair an irritated look. "What?"

_ "Friends _ ," Altair repeated, "Do you have any?"

"Why do you ask that  _ now _ ?" It had been seven years since his entry to the classes, that question indeed came late.

The Assassin on the opposite side of the table took a spoonful of soup before answering, "Your father wants to know."

Rasheed rolled his eyes. "Oh sure, as if father really wants to know-" The words fell silent in his mouth when he saw his father gravely staring him down across the table. 

"Your mouth is quicker than your mind, Rasheed," Altair mocked, "At least your eyes are good."

For a few more seconds, the teen poked around in his food. "No. No, I don't have any friends," he then muttered, "Everyone makes fun of me because of my name. Foremost that bastard Abd Al Aziz."

Altair glanced at Hatim, "Oh don't worry," he said, waving it away, "Abd Al Aziz is a fucking tool, says so in his own name. You should befriend Kadar, Malik's son."

"Kadar is a god damn douchebag."

"Yeah. Right. Forgot about that incident at the lake."

" _ Incident _ ?" Rasheed reacted indignant, "I almost  _ fucking  _ drowned!"

"I  _ did  _ warn you!" Altair sighed, working his brain for another name. "What about Ibrahim?"

Rasheed basically tucked his tongue in between his bottom teeth and bottom lip and pushed it foward whilst tapping his right temple, indicating Ibrahim was plain nuts according to him.

"Sayyid?"

"Fucks anything that moves."

"Murtada?"

"Too young."

"Khaleb?"

"Drooling retard."

"Christopher?"

"Fucking brute."

"Barak?"

"Dodgy."

"Wahid?"

"Gobshite."

Both Altair and Rasheed jumped when a fist came down hard on the table, looking over to the other side. Obviously angered with him, Hatim was punishing his son with a stern face. The boy suddenly found immense interest in his food, almost dipping his nose in it.

"Wahid it is," Altair chirped, continuing with his meal.

  
  


**23\. Triangle**

It was the first time Hatim showed up on his own, and Altair couldn't say his timing was the best. He had just fought with Malik, so loud they had almost been afraid the Templars would find the Bureau afterwards.

"You heard it, didn't you?" Altair said softly, resting his chin on his arms.

Hatim stood behind him, silently looking out to the city of Jerusalem. He had.

"Did you know, the triangle is the most solid shape of all. I've been thinking about that a lot lately." Altair bit his lip. There was so much more he wanted to say. About Kadar, about what had happened at Salomon's temple, so much more. "Fuck!" It escaped him instead, harsh and short.

The word echoed in the empty streets and Altair curled up further in frustration. A strong hand came upon his shoulder, and the both of them stayed for a while, watching the city sleep.

They knew the frustration would pass, the sorrow would stay.

  
  


**24\. Join me in death**

You could only meet so many Templars at once until your blade would give in. 

Both Altair and Hatim had learned that in the early stages of their apprenticeship, but no wise words and limits would hold them. On every single day, Hatim asked himself  _ when  _ exacly this would cost Altair's life, Altair who loved it so much to butcher through hordes of Templars. 

He told himself, if he was there, the day Altair's blade would break, if the man would search his eyes and mouth, "Join me in death," he would drop everything else and gladly do so.

  
  


**25\. Listen**

Altair glanced over to Hatim, just to be sure he was allowed to do this, and, seeing the annoyed look on the man's face, pinned Rasheed with a more resolved face again.

"Quit being such a little prick," he said matter of factly, "If it bothers you, do something and don't come and whine about it."

Rasheed glowered. "How come father lets you say all these things to me?" he asked crossing his arms, obviously huffy.

"If you'd listen close enough," Altair beamed at his lover, "You'd hear _ him  _ say it."

Hatim shared a knowing smile with him.

  
  


**26\. Resurrection**

A cloud of gray rose from the spot where had been their home only seconds ago, Altair stood and gaped for a while. Rasheed. Hatim. They were still inside. But he couldn't bring himself to move, struck by astounishment, too afraid of what he may find.

Then, Hatim rose from the ashes, and it was like the resurrection of the Messiah to Altair.

  
  


**27\. Decisions**

Hatim coughed and tried to squint his eyes to see through the stinging mix of smoke and dirt, holding his dark scarf to his face. From the right a shrill scream pierced the mist, followed by a few others which the Assassin dismissed for a much deeper, muffled cry in the opposite direction. Without a second of hesitation he took off over the piles of debris and wooden pillars, almost blinded, swinging over the slope a wall had created and crouching low behind it, hands digging into the remains of the burning house, revealing a cavity.

Rasheed peeked out of it.

"Father!" he exclaimed, pushing on the debris to help work his way out, "We've got to-" the hole was finally big enough for him to crawl out, "We've got to help the villagers! And the fortress! Father- "

Both Hatim and his son rose, Rasheed suddenly noticing the way the Assassin looked at him. Another thoughtful second, and Hatim turned, leaving without any rush, into the smoke and dust.

His son would make the right decision.

  
  


**28\. Rage**

Hatim entered the study without warning, slamming the door open with a force that shook the walls. With a nimble smile, Altair peeked up from behind the man's shoulder

He cleared his throath, as if they hadn't attracted enough attention already. "Abd Al Aziz is causing trouble again." He grinned. "Hatim would like to speak to you about that."   
  
Caleb eyed the two of them hatefuly, "If he  _ could _ , I suppose our brother would explain his intrusion to my bureau."

Air grew thick with that response. No, Caleb and Hatim had never been on good terms. Too much hatred to go out of eachothers ways, too much hatred to stay confined within one generation. No one had dared to interrupt the feud yet, not the messenger standing beside the desk freezed on the spot or even Altair himself. 

"Now now, why don't you take a seat?" Caleb asked with a deceitful kind smile.

Hatim eyed the lonely seat in front of the massive desk but remained unmoved. 

"Cut the crap." Altair growled for good measure.

Caled crossed his fingers over his beard. "Alright, if you're here to settle things, there should be something you know," he said, "Your son is a good for nothing piece of scum with no skill at all, born by a whore of a mother and a cripple, and if that  _ retard  _ had ever crossed  _ me _ , I would have had the honor of giving him a quick death for even  _ glancing _ at any of my honorable family members."

Altair's fists clenched and he stepped forward when a strong hand stopped him. He would have protested as he was pushed back and the door was slammed in his face if he hadn't caught Hatim's cold eyes. Cold, calm and dark. He knew that look.

A gurgle of a dying man, a muffled scream and a stumbling messenger later, Hatim stepped out, wiping his hidden blade with a rag that he threw on the ground. Without any sign whatsoever, gloomy eyes always straight ahead, he walked past Altair, the end of his torn scarf wipping out.

Caleb had awaken the demon, and he should have known better.

 


	8. Memories of Suffering and Secrets

  
  


**29\. Sickness**

It had all happened so fast, in one second him and Hatim were enjoying their Hookah, and in the next, Hatim lurched into a bowl and emptied the contents of his stomach. Not that Altair had expected this, the man had been a little bit weary the last two days and he had wanted to do something to cheer him up, he had not thought that Hatim was not in a foul mood but simply  _ sick. _

He let him be for a few minutes, waiting for the retching to stop, before he went to fetch a clean rag and some water.

He crouched down next to Hatim and gave him the fresh water. "It'll do you some good."

Hatim noodded half-heartly and took a few careful sips, closing his eyes. With a drawled groan, he fell back over the bowl.

"Don't worry," Altair patted his back gently, "It happens to the best of us."

He got up to take the black scarf off Hatim's neck and put it on the table, looking back when he heard a laugh. Over the brim of the recipient, Hatim shot him an amused look, laughing out of all things. 

Shaking his head, Altair wondered if this man was for real, but he couldn't hold back that small curve on his lips.

  
  


**27\. Death**

Rasheed stopped beside him and they shared the silence, a silence unlike any they had ever shared before.

"I'd never thought you'd outlive him." Rasheed looked over, "I always thought you'd die first."   


Altair swallowed but said nothing. Three years and he still met that brat at his father's empty grave weekly. Not even on purpose, it just happened that he was there on almost every single day, wishing Hatim had come back from that mission.

"You were always the one," Rasheed bit his lip, "Always the one who took more risks, you know? The one praised and spoken of in the whole kingdom. My father and you were so different-"   
  
"You're right. Sometimes I think it should have been me," Altair butted in, "Sometimes I think your father didn't deserve  _ this _ ." 

Rasheed shut his eyes and lowered his head in humiliation, holding back the tears that threathened to spill. Sure, he missed his father, but there was something worse than knowing that he was gone forever. He had left Altair behind. That was the most painful reminder of all: Altair. Every time he met him and the change in the air, the blank look on that face stung deep in his heart. 

Where was the proud man he had always admired secretly? The sassy brother he never should have had? His father's voice?

It seemed gone forever. When his father joined heaven, he had taken Altair with him. 

  
  


**28\. Dreams**

Altair's golden eyes opened and he took a deep breath of the fresh morning air, holding it in.

"I dreamt of fairies dancing in a faraway land," he whispered, eyes shining in amazement, even in the black of the dorm, "It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw."

Then his lids fell shut again and he was gone again, a peaceful slumber taking over his body and mind, maybe dreaming on about fairies and other mystical creatures. No one but Hatim was still awake to hear Altair's childish words, since he always listened into the night to hear them.

It wasn't the first time Altair spoke in his sleep and it wouldn't be the last.

  
  


**30\. Hidden messages**

Suddenly, Altair started to find random letters whenever Hatim went out for missions. Behind the bed, under the rug, between the apples standing on the table in a bowl, ontop of the wardrobe, stuck in his sash, bound to the handle of his sword, little parchements of paper all over the place, written with small sentences that seemed to be more accidently than anything else. Maybe, he began to think, he wasn't even supposed to find them.

Until he found the one that read: _ "I'll give you the fairies and the faraway lands you dream of" _ .

  
  


**31\. Accidents**

When Altair jumped into the next-best haystack to hide from the guards that wanted the precious apple back he had stolen, he had not expected to land ontop of another firm body. But before he could protest, a hand grabbed his collar and covered his mouth, silencing his yelp of surprise just in time. He glared at Hatim, secretly admiting to himself that the boy had guessed the situation pretty good. 

And sure, it was only a moment before they both relaxed again and that hand slipped off his lips, but they exchanged a look that said it all, lips crashing so hard in a sloppy kiss that it almost hurt. They paid no attention to the stinging hay. It was all just a mess of tossing and turning, getting the upper hand and pressing close to eachother, tangled hair and random grabs at clothing, a dynamic turn of events. This was anything but sweet or mushy, this was about pure control, even tough both had lost it, and it was exactly what Altair needed.

One of the two robes tore with a loud rip, Altair's eyes snapped open and he scrambled to get away, hitting the back of the cart.

"Shit!" He stared with wide eyes, at Hatim who remained completely unimpressed. "Shit!"

Hatim still eyed him with that same look of unsatisfied desire, propped up on his elbows. Altair's stare fell down to the buldge between the other's legs, mouth popping open in stupefaction.

"In the name of almighty Allah, tell me that's an accident."

The eyebrow over Hatim's right eye rose mockingly. As if that would be the first  _ accident _ .

Yet it was clear Altair would leave, bewildered and frantic only to pretend nothing ever happened the next week, since all of this was only an accident and accidents were so easily burried in the back of your mind.

  
  


**32\. Silent fights**

When you had no words to settle things and you were young and stupid, most fights ended bloody. But Altair and Hatim were not teens anymore and they shouldn't have to part like this, dirty from rolling around in the dust and bruises flourishing on their cheeks, which didn't stop them from doing so.

However, not before they sat in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea and Altair complimented Hatim's right hook.  _ Then  _ it was time to leave.

  
  


**33\. Animus vox**

It had happened only once. First the voices went deeper, then the sound cupped around Altair's world like a cocoon, humming oddly with foreign sounds. Something was speaking to him in an alien tongue, low and soothing, but only a few words before he was thrown back into harsh reality.

Hatim was staring right at him, with the most frightened look Altair undoubtly ever gotten. And he knew Hatim had seen, had seen the colors and the distance in him, that short second he had been out of this world.

Everything, from the moving voices' to the cocoon he had safely been wrapped in, he carried for the whole rest of his life.

  
  


**34\. Faraway places**

"And in the end, what happens with us?" Altair had thrown in casually, after all, it was just a simple curiosity.

Looking out to the skies, Hatim's lips curved into a smile, a message from him to his lover. Altair cocked his head up and gazed up into the sky, dotted with thousand upon thousands shining shards of light losing themselves in the darkness. He wondered, for the fraction of a second, what lay beyond all his vision could reach. After a deep breath, he understood.

Their future was written somewhere in the faraway skies.

  
  


 


End file.
